


Forest for the Trees

by snarkasaurus



Series: Spark of Warmth [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkasaurus/pseuds/snarkasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Scott McCall's the smart one, Stiles should probably pay attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forest for the Trees

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm sorry that the delays between parts are taking so long. There's a Lot Of Stuff going down, and it means i need to focus on things besides writing. This series is not abandoned, though, to reassure everyone who has been asking. I'm hoping to finish this soon, but I won't make promises because that way lies madness.

Stiles was sure something would have changed by now. He was sure of it. Giving Derek some space and time to realize that what Stiles was talking about was the perfect way to get Derek to realize he was being an asshole, and was going to be a _great_ way to open the door to talking. And maybe that whole sex thing, because now that he knew what was possible, he wanted more. 

No. Focus. Damn it. 

He wanted Derek to talk to him, to come to the realization that what Stiles was asking for wasn’t excessive, wasn’t dumb, wasn’t more than anyone should get in a relationship. That just because Derek had this mystical supernatural ability, that didn’t mean he was better than Stiles. Stronger, yes. Faster, that was a given. Better? No. 

But it hadn’t done anything. There wasn’t anything between them now. They barely saw each other, now that Derek had taken to cooking and hiding away to eat what he made, if he bothered to cook at home at all. Mostly, he was eating out, or at his office--and wasn’t that weird that Stiles didn’t know where that was? He didn’t even really know what Derek _did_. 

The only person Stiles really saw was Peter Hale, and there was a certain point at which that was just too much for any person. Possibly even moreso because he wasn’t trying to be anything but polite and helpful. It was weird. 

Either way, it had now been--Stiles looked at his calendar and sighed. Three months. Three months, and nothing. Derek had come to his graduation, and made an appearance at the graduation party Peter helped him fund at his dad’s place, before begging off and saying he had other things he had to do. And then he’d left. Just...left. 

Stiles let out a rough breath and leaned back in his desk chair. Why hadn’t Derek come back? Why weren’t they talking about this? Why wasn’t Derek behaving the way Stiles expected him to behave, damn it? 

“You done being an idiot?” asked a voice from the doorway. 

Stiles spun in his chair, overbalanced, and had to throw his leg sideways to catch himself. “Damn it, that wasn’t cool, Scott!” he said, pushing himself--and the chair that had overbalanced with him--back upright. “Make a little damned noise, will ya?”

“I rang the doorbell!” Scott protested, and came into the room, sprawling across the bed without an invitation. “I don’t know what more you want.”

Stiles frowned. “I didn’t hear any doorbell.” 

“Well, I rang it. Peter let me in, said you were in here, pouting. Dude, seriously, you’ve set yourself up everything you could possibly need! ...is that a minifridge and a microwave?”

Stiles glanced over at them. “Yeah. I figured having the means to make some food for myself wasn’t a bad thing. Can we back up, here? Pouting? Being an idiot? What the fuck are you talking about?”

Scott executed one of those flips that Stiles envied, the sudden shift from one position to another that all the wolves he knew seemed to do without thinking. “Derek’s been a pain in the damned ass,” he said, instead of answering Stiles’ question. “He’s like a wounded bear or something, barking orders and snapping at us all whenever we do something he doesn’t like.”

Stiles snorted. “Your comparison is a little off. Don’t you mean a wolf with his paw caught in a trap.”

“What the fuck ever, he’s an asshole, and it’s your fault,” Scott said, glaring at Stiles. 

“What do you mean it’s my fault?!”

“You’re being an idiot! You’re treating him like dirt, just because he hasn’t played your version of nice, and now he’s taking it out on us. You’re not giving him a chance to work on anything!”

Stiles spun back around and poked angrily at his keyboard. “I’m not treating him like anything. I barely see him. I don’t think I’ve seen him at all this week. It’s really hard to treat someone like something when you don’t see them.”

Scott stared at him. Stiles could feel it boring into his back. “Oh my god, you’ve gotten stupid.”

“Hey!” Stiles looked over his shoulder. “What the fuck?”

“Stiles! You haven’t seen him because you haven’t left your room, you haven’t tried to talk to him, you haven’t done anything. He’s acting like this because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to fix things.”

Stiles was out of his chair and turned around to face Scott before he really knew he was moving. “That’s _bullshit_. He knows! He knows because I fucking told him! I told him when I moved in here, that until he could treat me like an equal, I wasn’t going to do anything with him, other than make the necessary public appearances. So don’t tell me he doesn’t know what to do or that I haven’t tried to talk to him. I have!” 

“You said all that three months ago. Have you talked to him since then?” Scott asked, staring at Stiles. 

“No. Why should I? He’s the one that has to fix it,” Stiles snapped. 

Scott groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “What is he supposed to fix, Stiles?”

Stiles snarled at Scott. “You know damned well what he has to fix, and you know how,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re being a fucking asshole.”

“No, I’m trying to get you to see that you haven’t been giving Derek any kind of clues or chances to fix anything. Far as I can tell, he’s convinced that he’s going to be living with a stranger for the rest of his life, bonded to someone that can’t stand him. You’re not giving him anything to go on, Stiles, other than your first burst of, ‘I want to be equal!’ So fucking be equal! Man up, and go fucking talk to your husband and your mate, instead of whining and hiding like a little prick.” And Scott stalked out of the room. 

Stiles followed him, watching his best friend break into a jog and head down the hallway. “You’re full of shit, McCall!” he called. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re trying to take out you provoking your fucking alpha on me. You obviously did something to make him act like this, so man up and go fucking talk to your alpha, instead of whining and blaming it on me like a little prick.” He threw Scott’s words back at him, hurt and angry. 

Scott stopped on the stairs, and looked back up at Stiles over the railing. “Do you know what Derek did the day he presented you to the council?” 

“Besides treat me like an ornament?” Stiles said nastily. 

Scott grunted. “He went to your dad, me, and Isaac, trying to figure out what he did wrong, and why you were so mad at him. He was trying to understand what you were talking about, trying to understand _you_.” 

“Bullshit,” Stiles said, but he could see something in Scott’s eyes that made him doubt. 

Scott looked at Stiles a few moments longer before shaking his head and heading down the stairs. “Call me when you’ve pulled your head out of your ass,” he said, and walked out the door.

Stiles stared at the closed door for a long moment, trying to process what Scott said. Pulled his head out of his ass? Derek had talked to his _dad_? None of that made any sense. If Derek had talked to people, then why hadn’t he talked to Stiles? Why hadn’t he tried to fix it?

He turned around and walked back into his room, closing his door, and leaning against it. Scott couldn’t be telling the truth...could he? Was Derek really that miserable, so unhappy that he was taking it out on everyone else? Stiles slowly slid to the floor with his back pressed against the door. He wrapped his arms around his knees. Was the person here who was wrong Stiles?

~*~

“Peter?” Stiles asked, knocking on the library door and peeking in. “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

Peter Hale looked over the top of his book, eyebrow quirked. “Of course, but if you’re actively seeking me out, I don’t imagine this is going to be pleasant chitchat.”

Stiles cringed a little as he came in. The quiet jibe was a reminder that he hadn’t really been nice to any of the Hales. Maybe a little nicer to Peter than Derek, but only because Peter gave him coffee. “Sorry. I…”

Peter waved his hand. “You’ve had a lot to deal with. I’m not worried about it. How about you tell me what you want to talk about.”

Stiles sat down and took a breath. “I want to talk about Derek. About Derek and me.”

Peter slowly closed his book and leaned back in his chair. “I take it Scott’s visit wasn’t a friendly one, either.” 

“No,” Stiles said quietly. “He...said some things. Implied some others. I...Is Derek okay?”

Peter studied Stiles for a moment. “What does your spark tell you?” he asked. 

Stiles blinked. His spark? “Wh--oh.” He flushed. He’d forgotten about it. He would have thought that it’s foreign nature, the weirdness of having someone else’s emotions flickering around, sometimes contrasting with his own, would have stood out, but somehow, it hadn’t. It had just settled into the background, never really impinging on his awareness. “How do I…”

“Close your eyes and look for the warmth,” Peter said mildly, watching him. “Remember what it felt like when it formed? Look for that.” 

Stiles hesitated for a moment--he didn’t really want to be in Peter’s presence with his eyes closed, no matter how helpful he was being--but closed his eyes and started looking within himself. It took him a good few tries to try and figure out what he was going for. “Look for the warmth” was rather vague, in its way. He got distracted by his own stray thoughts more than once, until a little flare of...something grabbed his attention. 

 

“...oh,” he breathed aloud, eyes still closed. That flare was frustration. He recognized it because he’d felt it plenty on his own. This was tinged with...sadness, though. The kind of sadness that held the flavor of resignation, of the person feeling it being used to their sadness. It made Stiles feel a little sick. “He’s not really okay, is he?” he said softly. 

Peter shook his head once Stiles opened his eyes. “No, he isn’t,” he replied. “I’d say he’s about as far from okay as he can be and still be functioning, but because of his past, he’s remarkably good at hiding it.”

Stiles winced at that reminder. He knew all too well how much someone could learn to adjust when they were suffering from something like that. “But...if it...why hasn’t he come to me?” he asked, trying to focus his thoughts. 

“Did you give him a reason to think he could?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Of course! I told him from the beginning that I’d always be there to help him!” Stiles protested, frowning.

“And then you moved into your own room, and haven’t spoken to him more than half a dozen times since then.” 

Even though Peter’s voice was mild and even a bit bland, Stiles could hear the hint of censure. “He should have known.” 

“He doesn’t know you. How would he have known?” Peter leaned forward then, and rested his elbows on his knees. “You forget that while you knew quite a bit about him from Laura, however superficial it was, he didn’t really know anything about you. He wasn’t around for most of Laura’s courtship of you, and after, you were both grieving too much to learn about each other. And now, the last three months…”

“...I’ve been a little prick,” Stiles muttered. He felt winded, like the one-two punch of Scott and now Peter was more forceful than any go-round on the lacrosse field. “Fuck.” 

Peter watched him. “I wouldn’t have said little prick.”

“You didn’t. Scott did.”

“Ah. Is that why Mr. McCall was here? I’d wondered. And no, I didn’t listen. Something you would remember from talking to Laura, if you were thinking correctly,” Peter pointed out, when Stiles looked up at him, mouth starting to form his question. “If he came to tell you that you were being a little prick, then...yes. You have been a bit of a brat. Derek doesn’t understand, acts the way an alpha werewolf, the way _any_ werewolf would, you get upset, threw a tantrum, and make a unilateral decision that affects you both profoundly without even discussing it with him. Then, you refuse to talk to him, or even be around him, and give him no indication that you would welcome him coming to you. So...yes, Stiles, I would say that Mr. McCall was right.”

“I can’t believe Scott was the one to call me on it,” Stiles said, giving up and flopping backward into the chair. “He’s usually so oblivious!”

Peter raised his eyebrow. “Scott’s not as oblivious as you seem to think he is. I suspect it’s more a case of you’ve been the kind of friend that does most of the out loud thinking for both of you, so there was no reason for him to voice what he noticed. Now, though, you need him to actually say something, so he’s going to.”

“So even though he’s mad at me,” Stiles said, picking up a throw pillow and covering his face with it so his voice was muffled, “he’s at least going to try and help.”

“Seems like the Scott I’ve come to know as a packmate.”

Stiles sighed and lowered the pillow again. “So what now? I’m being a prick, but Derek is an asshole.”

“Why?”

Stiles frowned. “What?”

“How is he being an asshole? You never did explain yourself to anyone, other than getting angry. So explain it now. Pretend I’m Derek, and tell me how I’m being an asshole. It will help us both, really. Or would you rather I don’t help you?” Peter raised his eyebrow. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to decide if Peter was trying to work an angle. When Peter just gave him a steady, expectant look back, Stiles sighed. What did he have to lose? He certainly couldn’t spend the next however long he had to live at odds with the one person that would definitely be with him until he died. “Well...he didn’t listen. He blew me off like I didn’t know what I was talking about. Like I was a whiny kid that was throwing a temper tantrum.” 

“You were _acting_ like a kid throwing a temper tantrum,” Peter pointed out. “I saw that much. I didn’t see Derek treating you like one, though. I saw him being very confused because you were challenging the basis of what he knew to be the truth of everything. You were asking him to change his world view without giving him a reason to do it.” 

“It should be enough that I asked!” Stiles snapped.

“Why?” Peter shot back immediately. “You don’t know each other. He isn’t Laura.”

“I KNOW HE ISN’T LAURA!” Stiles shouted, sick and tired of everyone telling him what he already knew. “I AM WELL FUCKING AWARE THAT HE IS NOT THE WEREWOLF THAT I SPENT YEARS GETTING TO KNOW, SPENT YEARS LOVING, SPENT YEARS COMING UP WITH A PLAN TO HELP RECOGNIZE THE EQUALITY BETWEEN HUMANS AND WEREWOLVES WITH. I KNOW HE ISN’T FUCKING LAURA. LAURA IS DEAD, AND I’M LEFT WITH SOMEONE WHO DIDN’T EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO SEE ME MORE THAN A HANDFUL OF TIMES--NOT _EVEN_ THAT MUCH. I’M MARRIED AND BONDED TO A COMPLETE STRANGER WHO LOOKS LIKE MY DEAD FIANCEE, IS RELATED TO HER, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO, BUT I DO. FUCKING. KNOW. THAT. HE. IS. NOT. _LAURA_.” He slammed his fist into the wall, and then cried out in pain. He didn’t even remember getting up, and now he… “...I think I just broke my hand,” he gasped out, sinking to his knees. 

Peter groaned and got up, coming over to crouch next to him. “Yeah,” he said, coaxing Stiles into letting him see. “You did. Feel better for yelling, though?”

“...I’ll let you know when my hand stops hurting,” Stiles said. His voice sounded strangled, he noted. Was that what he sounded like when he was in pain? “I...I think I need to go to the hospital.” 

“Yep,” Peter said, and helped him to his feet. “Come on, idiot.” 

“Not an idiot,” Stiles mumbled, letting himself be led. 

“Anyone who punches a wall isn’t very smart,” Peter pointed out.


End file.
